


Stimulation

by lumbeam



Series: The Journey Itself Is Home [6]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Art History, Banter, Fluff and Smut, Gentleness, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Prostate Massage, Tenderness, WOW these tags...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumbeam/pseuds/lumbeam
Summary: Charles and Arthur have a chance to get away in St. Denis. Takes place immediately after "French Lessons"
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Series: The Journey Itself Is Home [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480901
Comments: 12
Kudos: 125





	Stimulation

**Author's Note:**

> yes, it's quite literally "fingers in his ass sunday" (DOUBLE WHAMMY since it's Easter Sunday)
> 
> enjoy! :)
> 
> november edit: if you're re-reading this I added some parts and did minor changes to it as well, but it's pretty much the same story. just letting anyone who was curious know!!!

Charles sat at the edge of the bed, looking at the painting. His pose—hand propping up his head, leaning forward—mirrored the pose of the painting. The woman’s eyes bore right through him. He didn’t have an eye for art, far from it, but there was a certain…quality about the painting. The colors were garish; he didn’t understand the palate the French man used for her skin tones. And yet, here he was, staring at the painting. Maybe if he stared long enough, he’d unlock how to view art.

There was a rattling at the window. It was Arthur.

Ah well.

“Takin’ some time to look at Mr. Châtenay’s work?” Arthur asked as Charles opened the window. 

“I guess so. You need a hand?”

“Sure.” Arthur took Charles’ hand in kind. “I swear, they make lattices cheaper and cheaper these days.”

“Did you break anything?”

Arthur looked back out the window. “...No. Didn’t hear nothin’ break.”

“...Sure.” Charles walked over to the canvas, flipping it the other way.

“Was she beseechin’ you with her eyes?”

Charles laughed. “You know, when I rented out this room, the man at the counter asked something similar.”

He looked at him quizzically as he took off his boots. “Asked you what?”

“He asked if I—” He looked back at the flipped canvas, almost afraid she’d hear. “Needed some _privacy_ as I looked at it.”

Arthur wheezed. “What, like you’d pull yourself off lookin’ at it?”

Charles laughed, but felt a little embarrassed at even the suggestion. “I guess.”

When Arthur’s laughter died down, he sat back on the bed. There were an excessive amount of down pillows. He threw some to the side. “Then again,” he said, “Dutch did tell me ‘bout this statue of a naked lady in ancient Greece. The legend goes that she was kept in this temple since men would think she looked like a real naked woman.”

“Well, did she?”

Arthur shrugged. “I dunno, maybe if ya squint. Just looked like a statue to me. Anyway, one guy breaks into the temple one night.”

Charles already knew where this was going. “Oh no—”

“Yeah. I guess he tried to have sex with the statue. Turned out he stained it with his come, as the poor man who found it the next day discovered.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Charles sighed. “Ancient Greece you said?”

“Pretty sure that’s what Dutch told me.”

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if it happened just yesterday.”

“Right.” Arthur shook his head. “Ain’t it _nice_ to know we’ve always been animals?”

“So nice.” Charles responded just as sarcastically.

There was a lull in the conversation. They heard the church bells chime outside. “I guess it’s three.”

Charles leaned over, placing a kiss on Arthur’s cheek. “I guess it is.”

“I got somethin’ while you got a room.”

“I was wondering what took you so long.”

Arthur grabbed his satchel off the bedside table. “I also wanted to give ya some _quality time_ with the painting.”

Charles scoffed. Hearing all the rustling, he craned his head over Arthur’s shoulder. “Did you lose it?”

“No, it’s in here—ah!” He showed Charles the tin. “Found it.”

 _Vaseline_.

“Oh.” Charles said, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t think you wanted to— well, at least just yet—”

“Oh, no, no. Not the whole… _process_ or nothin’.”

Breathing a slight sigh of relief, Charles asked, “Do you want to do that?”

Arthur looked at the tin, then back at Charles. “…Do you?” 

“What does your journal have to say?” 

“I don’t think I’ll be very helpful.” Arthur laughed. He got the journal out anyway.

“Maybe the sketches will jog your memory.” Charles offered, flipping the tin in his fingers.

“Maybe…” Arthur trailed off, finding the right page. Part of the lewd drawings were his, the others were from Charles C.

Like a lightning bolt, he got an inkling of a memory from that night.

\--

_“Mon ami, do you know what a prostate is?”_

_“A prah-state?” He felt strange saying it. “I don’t think so, maybe I might have read it a long time ago, or somethin’--”_

_“Agh, just say_ no _, I’ve had too much to drink to deal with your stumblings.” He sketched out an image of a behind. “The prostate is in your ass. Not just_ your _ass, but all men’s asses--”_

 _“Could ya_ please _stop sayin’ that so loudly?” Arthur blushed, feeling warm from the alcohol and the crass Frenchman sitting across from him._

 _“_ Please _, these brutes don’t care. They could learn a thing or two.” He continued to sketch_ inside _the behind. “The prostate is just inside the asshole, around the second knuckle…”_

_Arthur hid his face in his hand, peeking out at Charles through his fingers. “I might die if you keep talkin’ like this, you know.”_

_Charles seemed undeterred. “Well, if you do, then you’ll go into the afterlife with some useful knowledge.” Then, after a pause, “If you believe in that sort of thing.”_

_Arthur could barely handle talking to Charles about sex, so he kept his mouth shut at the topic of the afterlife. “...You were sayin’?”_

_“After a lot of_ patience _and vaseline, you’ll be able to rub against it.”_

_“Okay, and?”_

_“And?! It feels like--” Charles mimicked an explosion with his hands. “Like you have never come before in your life. Like an eruption. Like god Herself came down and caressed your skin.”_

_“It’s that poetic?”_

_Charles shrugged. “It’s like that for me.”_

_“Every time?” Arthur seemed wary._ _  
_ _  
_ _Charles leaned in at the table. “_ Every time. _”_

_\--_

Arthur felt himself blushing at even the memory. “There, uh--there might be some stuff about the prostate in there.”

Charles squinted at the journal. “Ah, so that’s what it says.”

“You know what it is?”

He gave Arthur a look. “I can kind of guess.”

“Yeah. And there’s some pictures for how to…” Arthur trailed off. He laid down on the bed, propping himself up with his arm.

“I certainly got that.” Charles smiled a little. He followed the directions of how to move his fingers, doing a “come hither” motion. Arthur’s mouth felt dry. “Okay.” He set the book down on the bed, leaving it open on the page. “You want to do it?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, thinking, “yeah, let’s do it.”

Charles looked at the lavitry in the corner of the room. “Do you--?” He motioned to the bathroom. “Want to check?”

“Prolly for the best.” Arthur groaned, pulling his suspenders down. 

Arthur did what he had to do (he was certainly thankful that Mr. Chatenay recommended prunes to him, as that was becoming a regular treat in his diet) and washed his hands. He looked in the mirror, trying not to focus on the scars or the wrinkles. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, smoothing his shaggy hair back. 

“All good in there?” Charles called out.

Arthur opened the door a moment later. “Fit as a fiddle.” He smirked, untucking his shirt from his pants. Charles was relaxing on the bed, hand on his stomach. He lazily watched Arthur walk over to the bed.

“Wait.” He said, “Stay there.”

Arthur laughed uneasily. “I thought you _wanted_ me near--”

“Take off your shirt.”

“Right here?”

Charles nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Arthur’s hands trembled slightly. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous. He was certainly nervous earlier when went out to the general store, embarrassed enough to buy _only_ vaseline. “My lips get real dry, you know--” He said to the passive clerk as he passed the exact change to him. His heart was pounding in his chest, the vaseline weighing like an anchor in his satchel as he walked over to the inn. As if everyone could tell what he was going to be doing.

He tossed his shirt onto the wingback chair. “Can I come over now?”

“Undress all the way.” 

Arthur waited a beat. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” He sat up a little, fingers drifting up and down his stomach. 

Arthur understood where he was going with this. Hell, he pulled similar things when he was with Mary, although he dreaded to invoke her memory into this situation. He unbuttoned his pants, tugging them down slowly. It was a little hard to slide out of them, the rough denim catching on the union suit. He stumbled as he kicked out of the denim, one leg, then the other. “I’m sure this is gettin’ you hot under the collar, ain’t it?”

Charles laughed. “Come here, you clumsy fool.” 

Arthur stood at the side of the bed as Charles unbuttoned his union suit. He kissed at Arthur’s skin as he went down button by button. Arthur started laughing.  
  
“What, are you ticklish as well?”

“It’s not that,” he chortled. “I could just unbutton the back flap for easy access.”

Charles scoffed, although it quickly turned into a laugh. “There’s nothing _more_ appealing than that image.”

Arthur gently caressed the side of Charles’ face. “Glad ya think so.” They kissed softly, a laugh still building in Charles’ chest. He kept thinking about the absurd image of Arthur bending over in his underwear, pulling at the buttons on the back flap of his suit and saying, “Whenever you’re ready.” He scooted back on the bed, inviting Arthur with him. His hands still made work at slipping his union suit off his shoulders. 

“Feelin’ a little _underdressed_ here.” Arthur muttered, although it didn’t seem like he minded too much. 

“You don’t like feeling this exposed?” Charles asked playfully, lightly scratching around Arthur’s shoulder blades.

“Mm,” Arthur pressed his forehead against Charles’ neck. “That feels nice.”

Charles’ hands sloped down to the small of his back. He tugged his union suit down past his thighs. Arthur’s breath hitched as Charles rested his hands against his flanks. He ghosted his fingers up and down his sides. Embarrassing as it was, Arthur shivered at the touch.

“Don’t you wanna get undressed?” Arthur asked again, trying not to sound pushy.  
  
“Later.” He said in a quiet voice, almost like a whisper. “I’m busy.”

“Well I could pull away, make you not busy--” Arthur strained out a groan as Charles’ hands went to the front of his union suit, wrapping around his cock. “Ah—“ He gasped. 

“I don’t think you want to pull away.” Charles smirked, stroking him.

Arthur propped himself up on his hands. “What’s gotten _into_ you?” He asked, a sheen of sweat on his face.

Charles’ expression softened. “Do you not like it?”

Smiling back at him, he said, “Just curious.” As he lowered himself back down, he whispered, “An’ I _really_ like it.”

“Glad to hear it.” He nudged Arthur in for a kiss, continuing to stroke him. Arthur used a free hand to tug down his union suit further, trying to kick it off past his knees. If only they weren’t tucked into his knit socks…

“Need some help?”

“Goddamn union suit’s drivin’ me crazy.”

“Here.” He took his hands off of Arthur, motioning to roll off of him. Arthur laid awkwardly, hard and nearly naked, as Charles pulled the rest of his clothes off.   
  
“Thanks.” 

“I guess I could remove something.” 

Arthur absently stroked at himself. “Up to you.”

Charles shrugged and dressed down to his union suit. He did it a lot more gracefully than Arthur. He tossed his clothes on top of Arthur’s. Charles crawled back on the bed, hands going everywhere but to where Arthur wanted them to go. Arthur groaned slightly, feeling impatient at the teasing. Charles laughed against his skin. 

Arthur, feeling a little bold and _a lot_ impatient, grabbed one of Charles’ hands and tried to bring it to his cock. Charles pulled his hands away from Arthur’s grip, moving back. 

“Don’t do that.” He said sternly.

“You don’t like me gettin’ a little greedy?” Arthur smiled a little. 

Charles stared at him. “It’s not that. I don’t like you forcing my hand.”

His smile fading, he cleared his throat and said, “Sorry, I won’t do it again.” He seemed genuine.

“Just as long as we’re clear.” Charles muttered, sneaking back next to Arthur. 

“I really am sorry, y’know.”

Charles softly placed a kiss along his collarbone. “I know.” He wrapped a hand around Arthur’s cock, now slightly flaccid. He kissed alongside his neck as he stroked him. “Where’s the vaseline?”

Arthur clumsily reached for his satchel, stretching far enough to not get away from Charles’ touch. After some straining, he finally pulled out the tin of vaseline, handing it over to Charles. “How do you want me?” Arthur grumbled, Charles savoring his sensual tone. It was obvious Arthur wasn’t aware of his tone, especially when he got like this. 

He grabbed the tin, slinking down the bed further. He looked at the covers. “How often do you think they wash these?” He asked, looking at the delicate lacy fabric.

Arthur laughed. “Prolly never. You’re thinking we should get under the covers?”

Shrugging, he reasoned, “As a courtesy.” 

“You’re too goddamn sweet for your own good, Charles.” Arthur said with a smile, tugging the covers down. 

“Don’t go getting sentimental on me just yet.” Charles warned, tone light. He unscrewed the tin.

“You never answered my question.” Arthur said, lying in the middle of the bed. He propped himself up with the many ( _many)_ pillows. 

“Which one?” Charles tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. He _knew_ which one, but he wanted to hear it again.   
  
“How do you want me?” Arthur asked in that same tone. He seemed relaxed, seductive in his calmness.

“How do--” Charles felt a little tongue tied. “There is fine.” 

“Okay.” Arthur put his hands behind his head.

Charles unscrewed the vaseline. He put a healthy amount on the tip of his pointer finger. He crawled up the bed, finger pointing upwards. With his other hand, he nudged Arthur’s legs open. “You mind?” 

“Not at all.” Arthur laughed, spreading his legs.

Charles cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Arthur said lightly. 

Charles gave him a soft smile back. He pressed his finger against Arthur’s hole. “Is this okay?”

Arthur chuckled a little. “Yeah, s’okay. I’ll let you know if it ain’t.” He spread his legs a bit further.

“Okay.” He circled his finger around his hole. “Should I use more vaseline?”

“I’m good for now.”

“Okay.” He furrowed his brow, deciding if he should go further. “I’m going to go in.”

Arthur sighed, making his body even more slack. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Charles sighed as well. He slowly went inside, only to his first knuckle. “Does it hurt?”

Arthur shook his head. He stared up at the ceiling, more out of confusion than anything. “Don’t hurt. It just feels... _weird._ ”

“Weird as in…?” He asked, staying still to not surprise him or hurt him. 

“I dunno. Just weird. You ain’t very far, are you?”

Charles looked down at his finger. “No.”

“You can keep going.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Charles pushed his finger in a bit more around to his second knuckle. He heard Arthur groan pleasurably. Charles tried to remember the motion that was written in his journal. He curled his finger upwards at the firm gland against--

“Shit, shit shit, hold on, wait, _wait_ \--” Arthur panted. Charles pulled his finger out of him.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, panicked by the sudden reaction. “Did I hurt you?”  
  
“No, you didn’t.” Arthur finally caught his breath, ending in a long sigh. “It was just real intense.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good, I guess, but too sudden.” A pause. “...I think.”

“Do you want to try again?”

“Gimme a second, I’ll be good.”

Charles sat awkwardly on the bed, waiting for the okay. He wasn’t sure if he should wash the vaseline off or not. Instead, he sat cross-legged, watching Arthur reach for his canteen. He took a few gulps, then laid back down on the bed. He sighed. “Okay.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Using his one hand, he unscrewed the cap from the vaseline. He reapplied some to the tip of his finger. Arthur spread his legs slightly.  
  
“I don’t think I need any more vaseline. I’m more greased up than--than…” His analogy lost steam. “Ah, you know what I mean.”

Charles laughed, circling some more vaseline around Arthur’s entrance. “I do.” 

“You can go back in.” Arthur allowed. 

“I’ll be slow.” 

He smiled down at him. Arthur placed a hand on Charles’ thigh. “I know.”

Charles slowly pushed inside to the second knuckle, eyeing Arthur’s expression.

“You mind if I--?” Arthur gestured to his cock, certainly not flagging even for the intermission.

“I got it.” Charles said, gently wrapping his hand around him.   
  
“You always know how to take care of me,” Arthur sighed. “Always so good to me.”

“Save the pillowtalk for later, okay?” Charles laughed. He laid down on his stomach, propping himself up by his arm. “Just relax.”

“Okay, okay.” He moaned.

He stroked Arthur and pushed his finger in and out of him, getting him used to the sensation. Finally, he curled his finger upward, pressing against his prostate. He was gentle in his nudgings, slowly working moans out of Arthur. 

“M--Mor--” Arthur stuttered to say. His breath kept hitching every time Charles hit the spot.

“What?”

“I want _more,_ please.”

“Never thought I’d hear you beg.” Charles seemed pleased with himself, getting this big tough outlaw to unravel with just a finger. “You want me to use more Vaseline?”

Arthur shook his head, his back arched. “I’m ready.”

Charles watched Arthur’s face with rapt attention as he inserted another finger. It was a little bit of a stretch for Arthur, but plenty of petroleum jelly eased any discomfort out of him. He felt... _good_. Fuller. He got even harder in Charles’ hand as his mind wandered to how it’ll be for the real thing. To feel Charles inside of him. An undignified moan escaped out of his lips.

“You like that?” Charles asked, both hands busy.

Arthur nodded, his hair falling in front of his damp forehead. 

“You want more?”

Arthur’s eyes shot open. “Wha-more? More _fingers_?”

All Charles could do was laugh. “No, not that. Do you trust me?”

Arthur wanted to answer “with my life,” but instead he nodded in a dazed manner.

Charles took his hand off of Arthur’s cock, and after getting comfortable, he went down on him. Arthur’s hand immediately shot up to his mouth where he bit down _hard_ on his knuckle. He was amazed he didn’t taste blood. He moaned around his own skin, watching Charles work him open with his fingers and take care of him with his mouth.   
  
“Charles,” Arthur whined around his knuckle, “Don’t stop.” He stopped biting down as hard since it was his dominant hand. He looked at it briefly (deep indents, some burst blood vessels) before putting his attention fully back on Charles.

Charles looked up at him, taking his mouth off of him to ask, “This okay?” He knew the answer, but it was important for him to check.

Arthur nodded, inhaling sharply through his teeth. Charles loved seeing him like this, properly debauched, completely lost in the moment. 

Charles slowly pressed his fingers inside of Arthur further, down to the last knuckles. He pressed up against his prostate, moving his fingers in and out of him with the speed as if he was thrusting into him.

He felt Arthur tense up. Charles did the hand trick, wrapping his fingers tightly around his thumb in his free hand. 

“ _Shit_ , Charles--” Arthur moaned. His hand gripped at Charles’ bicep. “ _I’m--_ ” He strained out a groan, clenching his jaw. Charles could feel him _throb_ from the inside and in his mouth. Arthur filled his mouth. It seemed to be more than the last time he went down on him. He gently worked his way through Arthur’s orgasm until the pulses stopped, then he withdrew himself from him. Arthur sighed at the absence of Charles, the warmth of his mouth and fingers.

Charles sat up on the bed, being careful not to touch anything. He gestured with his head to the washroom, mouth full of come. He held his hands out in front of him like a surgeon. Over running water, he heard Arthur talk. Not specifics, but he heard something. After he was done scrubbing his hands and swishing water in his mouth, he came back into the room, absentmindedly drying off his hands and mouth with a hand towel. “What did you say?”

“I was s’posed to see god when I came.” Arthur sounded almost upset.

He scoffed. “You’re religious? That’s something new.”

“I mean I _ain’t_ but the other Charles told me it’d feel like god came down and caressed me.”

Charles laughed. “He’s an _artist_ , Arthur. I doubt that loon meant it literally.”

“Yeah, guess not.” Arthur put his hands behind his head. “Would’ve been quite the journal entry if I did.”

Charles scoffed, tossing him the towel. “Clean yourself up. You’re talking loopy.”

Arthur laughed, wiping the vaseline off of his rear and the stray drops of come off of his stomach. “Maybe so. But it weren’t _anything_ like I felt before.”

Charles raised his eyebrows. “You can’t compare it to anything?”

“Can't think of anything off my dome right now.” He tossed the dirty towel in the corner. “You wanna try it? We got time.”

Charles looked at the tin of vaseline on the bed. “Not right now. Here, scoot over.”

Arthur scooted over on the bed, revealing a small wet spot right in the middle of the sheets. They both laid just around the wet spot, curled on their sides.

The clock in the city square chimed again. “I guess it’s four.”

“Yeah, sounds like it."

Arthur lazily draped a leg over Charles’. “Only two hours left.” He kissed along Charles’ neck. 

“Pfft,” he scoffed. “ _Only_.” He turned towards Arthur, tucking his arm under the pillow. 

“What’re you doing?” Arthur asked, smiling. He looked goofy, the kind of goofiness that only came out when he was drinking. Or, as Charles realized, after having a prostate orgasm.

“Nothing.” Charles said. He traced his thumb around the diagonal scar on Arthur’s chin. His touch ghosted under Arthur’s bottom lip. 

“I, uh…” Arthur cleared his throat. “I wanna suck you off.” He was looking down, almost embarrassed to say something so forward.

A heat crept up from Charles’ abdomen to the tips of his ears. “You do.” 

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed, moving closer to Charles on the bed, over the wet spot. “I do.” His hands dragged down to the front of his union suit. Charles was still hard from before, from watching Arthur come undone. It never seemed to get old for him. He doubted it ever will.

Arthur scooted down on the bed without another word. He unbuttoned the rest of his union suit, which Charles assisted in, then took Charles into his mouth without preamble.

“ _Oh--oh!_ ” Charles breathed at the sudden sensation. “Okay--” He exhaled. “Okay.” 

Arthur still wasn’t _great_ at it, but his enthusiasm made up for his lack of skill. He was careful not to go down too far, for fear of his gag reflex acting up like last time. He wrapped his hand around Charles as he went up and down. 

Gently placing a hand on top of Arthur’s head, he guided him. His fingernails grazed his scalp. Arthur moaned around him, pleased by the feeling. Charles angled his head so that he could watch him, his lips working up and down on him. Perhaps feeling Charles’ eyes on him, _encouraging him_ , Arthur tried to go down further. There was much less sputtering and coughing than last time, but he still couldn’t stay down for long. He stopped for a moment, catching his breath.

“How’s your jaw?” Charles asked, watching Arthur massage the side of his face.   
  
“Jaw’s fine.” Arthur said, lips wet. “Better’n before.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Yeah.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Am I doin’ all right?”

Charles tilted his head to the side, a lock of hair falling into his face. “Of course you are. You’ve improved.”

“I have?” Arthur asked, smirking a little. He took Charles back in his hand. 

“You haven’t practiced on anyone, have you?” Charles joked, then stopped chuckling when he saw Arthur turn sheepish. “...Right?”

“I haven’t, honest.” Arthur cleared his throat, sinking back down on the bed. “But, well...I’ll uh, I’ll tell you later.”

He didn’t know what he meant, but he put it aside for now. The heat of Arthur’s mouth was too much to ignore. He sighed softly, resting his head on the pillow. He lazily watched Arthur go back to work. He ran a hand through Arthur’s shaggy hair. Arthur looked up at him as he worked. Charles breathed a little heavier, holding eye contact with him. Arthur’s other hand grabbed Charles’. He squeezed it. Charles finished only a few minutes later with a low groan.

As he watched Arthur, still naked and half-hard, walk off to the bathroom, he buttoned up his union suit. Deciding to be nice, he tidied the bed. According to his watch, they still had about an hour before they had to get back. Plenty of time.

Arthur washed his mouth with water, swishing it around before spitting it back out. He used another one of the hand towels in the washroom to dry off his hands and mouth. “Prolly should get dressed, huh?” He asked, snatching his underwear off the floor. 

“Up to you.” Charles said absently as he searched for a pack of cigarettes. “Want a smoke?”

Arthur looked over at him, turning his suit inside out. “You willin’ to share?”

“Sure.” Charles said, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Now was the matter of finding a match…

“I got ya, Charles.” Arthur stepped into his union suit, then searched his bag. He tossed Charles a fancy lighter. 

“Where’d you get this?” Charles asked, flicking the lighter. He lit the cigarette. “Surely you didn’t buy it.”

Arthur laughed. “I might’ve taken it from one of the fancy city folk at the mayor’s party.”

Charles read the inscription on the back. “‘Reginald, my bright light in these uneasy times.’” Charles scoffed. “What do they have to feel uneasy about?”

“‘Sides someone takin’ their lighters.”

“Besides that.” Charles laughed. He took a drag, then held out the cigarette for Arthur. “You coming to bed?”   
  
Arthur finished buttoning up his union suit. “I am, I am.” He walked over, taking the cigarette out of Charles’ hand. He pulled the covers back, relaxing on the comfortable bed.   
  
After feeling a comfortable amount of silence had passed, Charles took the cigarette from Arthur and asked, “So who did you practice on?”

Arthur scoffed, the remnants of cigarette smoke escaping his mouth. “Ain’t ‘who.’”

Charles gave him a look. 

Arthur laughed, feeling his cheeks get warm. Another memory, one he unfortunately hadn’t forgotten, sprung to the front of his mind.

\--

_“Do you think you are going to practice before the main event?” Charles Chatenay asked, resting his head against the wall._

_Arthur laughed heartily. “And what in the hell do you mean by_ practice _?”_

_“I’m sure you have many phallic things in your life to practice on?” He said it completely seriously. Arthur could have melted through the floor._

_“Uh, I guess.”_

_“You do know what phallic means, right?”  
_ _  
_ _“I ain’t_ that _dumb_ , _Charles.”_

 _“Thought I would check.” He took another drink of absinthe. “Carrots would be a good option, although maybe make the end more_ rounded _.”_

_Arthur rubbed his eyes until he saw stars. Something else to focus on away from this conversation._

_“I know you are uncomfortable, but it is for your own good!” Charles slammed the table to emphasize his point._

_Arthur doubted if it_ was _for his own good._

\--

“Uh...Promise ya won’t laugh?"

Charles thought for a moment. “No, but I’ll try not to.” He wrapped an arm around Arthur’s stomach, pulling him close. 

“There was this one time, I don’t remember _where_ I was or why I was out of camp, but I was searchin’ for food for Beeve.”

“...Uh huh?”

“Anyway, I was digging through my bag, and I remember Charles--the _other_ Charles, not you--said somethin’ ‘bout _practicing_.”

A smile was forming on Charles’ face. “Okay.”

“Anyway, I--I made sure no one was around, and I found a carrot.”

Charles started to laugh quietly. “And you practiced your skills?” 

Arthur flipped around the other way. “...Until I gagged on it.”   
  
Charles’ body was shaking, trying not to burst out laughing. “You’re so foolish!”

Arthur, despite his embarrassment, started to laugh as well. “I know.”

Charles kissed Arthur on the cheek in-between laughter. “But I love you _because_ you’re foolish.”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat at that admission. It was still so _new_ for him. “Find that hard to believe.”

“I do!” Charles pulled him tight, still laughing. “I do.” He kissed his cheek. 

The clock outside chimed five times. 

“An hour left.” Arthur said sadly. 

“Yeah.” Charles stroked his fingers along Arthur’s chest. 

“With the way Dutch is running things, who knows when we’ll have a chance to get away again.”

Charles knew that was true, but he didn’t want to comment on it. He could see the group fraying at the ends, not to mention _Dutch_ was as well. “You nervous about the bank job?”

Arthur shook his head. “Hosea seems confident we can pull it off. That’s all I need right now.”

The two men were silent, listening to the clang of the railcar outside. 

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now.” Arthur muttered, turning towards Charles and wrapping his arms around him. 

Charles laughed slightly despite the nervousness in his chest. “Okay.”

“Just wanna lay here.”

“That can be arranged.”

Arthur tilted his head up slightly, nudging into a kiss. It was gentle. He kissed him a few times, then rested his head on Charles’ shoulder. 

The two started to doze off until the bell chimed at six pm. They groggily wiped their eyes and gathered up their things.

“I’m gonna see if the post office can hold this for a while,” Arthur gestured to the painting.

“Good luck.” Charles laughed. 

The two men got dressed. Arthur looked out the window at the lattice he used to climb up to the room. “Hey Charles?”

“Hm?” He asked, looking over as he buttoned his shirt.

“I lied earlier. I actually _did_ break the lattice while I was gettin’ in.”

Charles sighed, but it turned into a laugh. “You want me to create a distraction when I check out, don’t you?”

“That, or I can hide behind the painting.” Arthur chuckled as he slung his satchel over his shoulder.

“I’ll go first. Keep an eye out for anything.”

“Sure.” Just as Charles was about to open the door, Arthur grabbed his sleeve. “One more thing.”

Charles kissed him before Arthur had the chance to make the move. “Was that it?”

Arthur gave him a goofy lovesick smile. “Yeah.” 

Charles picked up the painting, giving Arthur one last sly smile before opening the door. “Stay close to me.”

“You don’t gotta tell me twice, Mr. Smith.”  
  


  
  
  
  



End file.
